The Only War I Fight
by B. Murakawa
Summary: [AU] 'And Tohru hadn't been able to break the curse.'
1. storm clouds gather

**summary: AU 'And Tohru hadn't been able to break the curse.'**

**pairings: Momiji+Tohru, Yuki+Kyo, Hiro+Kisa**

**warnings: sort of inavoidably angsty, spoilers from about book ten onwards**

**notes: I took Akito's plan to keep all of the juunishi under one roof forever as metaphorical; so though they aren't confined to the compound, he really has absolute control over their careers, personal relationships, financial assets, etc. I'm not so sure about this story...it's my first Furuba fic. Comment, please?**

**Oh, and I redivided up the story since someone (not naming names, but, uh...coughMomiji-kuncough) practically held a gun to my head to help "convince" me to continue the story. Actually, it was a Super Soaker 2000, but whatever.**

**disclaimer: alas...no. All I own is my dirty, dirty heart.**

**The Only War I Fight**

**by Becky Murakawa**

**i. storm clouds gather**

Souma Momiji had become an adept liar.

It had all started, of course, with a girl. Most things do. The girl was Honda Tohru--but not the one he had idolized as a boy of fifteen. This Honda Tohru wore plain slacks and button-up shirts (a far cry from the frilly dresses she'd loved) and worked in a factory owned by Buro Electronics, Inc., which, Momiji had been unsuprised to discover, was owned by a distant cousin, a man who, though on the 'Outside', was neverthless connected to the Souma Family.

He had seen her, for the first time, outside her apartment building, and had stalked her closely enough to see that she lived in a third floor room, unremarkable from all the other rooms. He waited until she shut the door behind her, and then he had walked back to the nearby shopping district where he told his driver to go home; he would call for someone when he was ready to go back. Momiji grinned and winked mischieviously, trying to give the impression that he was getting into the kind of trouble all seventeen year old boys do. The driver took all of this in stride and bid Momiji to behave as befitted someone of his station (that is, don't get caught).

And when the car was out of sight he sprinted back to the unremarkable apartment complex, up the stairs to the third floor room. He knocked.

When she answered, he could tell that she didn't recognize him at all. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, her features less child-like, her figure filled out in all the right places. She smiled her sweet, confused little smile. He felt sick.

"Ano--are you Plumber-san?"

Without skipping a beat, Momiji replied in the affirmative.

"Please come in!" Tohru seemed flustered. Momiji traced the unfamiliar line of her profile, missing the old Tohru who had let him jump into her arms, a lapful of happy, squirming bunny rabbit.

The apartment was tiny; the living room also, apparently, served as sleeping and dining quarters, as evidenced by the futon stowed in a corner and the plastic table, also in a corner (there were no closets). It was very efficient, and more Western-style than Momiji was used to. The bathroom, when they came to it, was also painfully small; it, at least, consisted of only a toilet and a sink; Momiji assumed the bath was in a separate room.

Tohru had evidently attempted to personalize the room by implementing a fluffy round toilet cushion, adorned with cheerfully grinning fish, and fish shaped soap near the sink. Momiji found it endearing. He couldn't hide a smile.

"Plumber-san...ah...what may I call you?"

"Mo--" Momiji caught himself. An alias couldn't hurt. "Momo. My name is Momo. And..." He pretended to think. "I believe the landlord said that you are called Honda Tohru-san?"

"Ah, yes! What a good memory you must have!" Tohru twisted her little hands, seeming for all the world like a child caught in a lie. "Momo-san--" And Momiji was amused to find that she didn't think the name odd, "I'm afraid that any work having to be done must be paid for in installments." Her face was pink. "I don't really have enough money--"

"No, no, Honda-san." Momiji waved off her protests. "You seem to have overestimated the cost." He pretended to inspect the toilet (which was, in fact, full to the brim with clear water, as was the sink, now that he noticed) and wondered how long he could keep up the charade. What had come over him, claiming to be a plumber?

"Ah...surely Momo-san's clothes are far too nice to spoil here?"

Momiji could have kicked himself. Damn Versace, anyway.

He decided to switch to Plan B.

"Actually, Honda-san--" He sidled past her out of the bathroom and instead stationed himself by the entrance, prepared to leave at once should she show any reluctance to let him stay. He didn't want to frighten her, and by now he knew that his...somewhat overwhelming...personality had that affect on a great many people. "I spoke an untruth when I said that I was a plumber." He was, in his own opinion, a master at appearing to be remorsefully guilty, and he used every ounce of skill he possessed to appear so now. "I recognized Honda-san as I walked by her apartment. I..." He thought furiously of how to phrase this. "I am the son of the owner of the building Honda-san used to work in as a janitor. I doubt you remember me," he added hastily, knowing full well that she didn't, "but I was so grateful to see Honda-san that I couldn't resist coming up to see her."

To his relief, Tohru looked absolutely overcome. "But that was so long ago! To think that Momo-san would remember someone like me..."

"Well, I just recently moved into an apartment near here," Momiji lied. "I must confess, I don't know many people, and I was just so glad to see a familiar face--"

"You must stay for dinner!" Tohru said excitedly. She reddened as she said this. "I don't have much...and I'm having over two other guests..."

One guess as to who they might be, Momiji thought, picturing the Wave-Girl and the Yankee whom he distinctly remembered hovering over Tohru like weird guardian angels.

"I would be honored," Momiji said, bowing. It felt so strange, being this formal. He wanted to say, 'You used to cook for us all of the time!' and, even more importantly, 'Don't you remember _anything_?', but he knew she did not.

Hatori never skimmed around corners.

Kisa was the first person to notice the change in him.

Momiji had, of course, caught himself humming snatches of tunes he'd grown out of years ago. Eating sweets with a vengeance. Bouncing around high on caffeine and aformentioned sweets. Acting like he hadn't acted since That Day.

They were hanging out at the arcade, Kisa happily bashing in aligators with a large mallot, Momiji rocking a Mortal Combat-type game, and Hiro calculating how many tickets he would need to get Kisa that damned pink-ribboned bear she'd been eyeing covertly all afternoon. Momiji, ecstatically murdering his well-muscled opponent and mentally dwelling on the meeting with Tohru (oh God, Tohru!), didn't notice when Kisa approached quietly and simply stood, and watched.

"You've changed," she said suddenly. Momiji gave a start, and left an opening so wide that his character was beaten in under three seconds. He gaped.

"Noooo...I died."

"Momiji-kun..."

"Kisa. That was my very. Last. Token."

"This morning, Momiji-kun was singing the cherry blossom song."

"...So?" Momiji pouted as the game started displaying preprogrammed battle scenes. He'd felt sure he was on his way to a high score.

"In a _soprano_."

"She has a point," Hiro said haughtily, coming up behind them with a pink-ribboned bear carelessly clasped in one hand. He handed it over to Kisa when he saw her eyes light up over it. Momiji grinned, though it felt (and probably looked) forced.

"How many tickets did it end up taking, Hiro-kun?"

"Don't change the subject, rabbit." Hiro frowned. "What're you up to, exactly?"

Momiji waved his hands in a don't-worry-about-a-thing gesture. "Hiro-kun! So suspicious!"

Kisa laid a hand upon Hiro's arm--he was beginning to get really agitated--and regarded Momiji with some worry. "Momiji-kun does tend to leap before he looks," she said gently.

"Ahahaha!" Momiji plastered on a smile so large it made his jaw ache. "My eyes are wide open this time, Kisa-chan, I swear!"

And his eyes were open.

Mostly he was afraid of Akito. This was a dark cloud that followed him around like in cartoons, raining on even his happiest moments. And he was afraid of the memories that were slowly resurfacing, though he had never forgotten them; he had simply put them away because they were too much. They were still too much.

All through dinner, with Tohru next to him in one of the cheap plastic chairs, and Hanajima-san and Uotani-san across from them, watching Momiji warily, Momiji remembered. He went back to That Day. He saw Hatori grim but unflinching. Shigure standing by Akito, expression unreadable. Akito smirking a little. Kisa and Hiro, he found out later, had disappeared into the gardens, where Kisa wept and Hiro didn't. Haru, Ritsu, Ayame-ni-san, Rin--who knew where they were? But Tohru had followed Hatori, and Yuki had seen it all from his place next to Akito, opposite Shigure, and Momiji knew that Yuki was hating himself more than he ever had. He knew that Yuki felt as much the coward that Momiji knew himself to be. And Kyo...

Kyo had lost the bet.

Momiji hadn't actually known much about the bet until Akito announced that no one need be bothered by 'the monster' any longer. He was being taken care of. Momiji clearly remembered the sheer agony that had been written in every line of Shishou-san's face. Shishou-san had not been at the family meeting; only juunishi were allowed (required) to attend. But Shishou-san had known, somehow, and had been somewhere near, of that Momiji was sure.

And Tohru hadn't been able to break the curse. So in the end, she was just another one of Akito's toys, to do with as he pleased. And he wanted to take away what had been most important to her--the Soumas.

Tohru might have vaguely remembered Momiji as the son of her former boss. If she had seen Yuki, she would have remembered him, too, as a former classmate. But if anyone had asked, she would have said that she only lived with the Soumas for a month or so, and then moved in with her grandfather. Everyone, even the Yankee and the Wave-Girl, were made to believe this.

Momiji was certain she didn't remember Kyo at all. It seemed to him sometimes that no one did.

He went to Tohru often. She thought he was adorable (he was), and she enjoyed his company. She thought he was just a lonely boy who needed a friend, and not the guilty bastard who had chosen to save his own skin rather than stand up for her.

Momiji cleverly evaded most enquiries as to where he was spending his time these days. He told Hatori he went to the arcade. He told Hiro and Kisa he went to see his older, richer, beautiful girlfriend (hahaha). No one else asked.

He and Tohru started on a thousand piece puzzle. It was of a basket of kittens. With every piece that fit into place, Momiji thought of Kyo.


	2. the calm before the storm

**ii. the calm before the storm**

At nineteen, Souma Yuki was still a heartbreaker. Since entering university, he had taken to wearing clothes that could have hung in any teenage boy's closet: jeans with large, deep pockets, that somewhat concealed his slender build, t-shirts with the names and logos of American bands splayed over them, baggy plaid overshirts with the sleeves rolled up. Sometimes he stood before the bathroom mirror in his room at the Souma House, and assumed the carelessly angry pose that had once been Kyo's. He never could pull it off that well. But it was as close to bringing the cat back as he could get, and it made him feel somehow less accountable.

Behind the mathematical figures, the foreign phrases, the history and the science that all freshman were required to learn, Yuki's mind was preoccupied with two things: one was Tohru, whose image grew more hazy as the days became years, though he never completely stopped feeling the pain of her absence and all of the things he had never had the chance to tell her.

The other was Kyo.

Yuki, wisely avoiding the gaggle of female librarians and patrons who were known to frequent the lobby of the library, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Prince (as he was still called, much to his chagrine), entered the libary through a side entrance and took the stairs. He had long ago learned that crowded elevators and the Souma family curse didn't mix.

The third floor was mostly nonfiction, and he walked blindly among the shelves, not bothering to check what section he was in, only satisfied when he had reached a place that seemed completely deserted. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself in a dusty poetry section. Among the kanji, he picked out a few English authors. He settled for Mathias Church, whom he didn't entirely despise, and sat upon the carpet, back resting against the book spines. He left the collection of poems by Church open on his lap.

He was responsible, really, for what had happened to Kyo and Tohru. This thought had not just occured to him; he had dwelt on it every day since the day Akito ordered Tohru's memories swept clean and Kyo put in confinement.

If only he had voluntarily given in to Kyo...if only he had realized what a fool he was being, trying to keep the stupid balance, trying to beat the cat like the rat was _supposed_ to.

And, as was often the case when he thought of Kyo, Yuki thought of human bones. The bones of a warrior priest that had been crafted into the beads Kyo always used to wear...and probably still wore. A protective charm built on the sacrifice of others.

"It halted _his_ transformations," Yuki murmured aloud. "So why not..."

Why not the juunishi transformation?

Why _not_?

It wasn't like he'd had any chance to experiment. Akito kept pretty close tabs on him, and he could just imagine himself going to his advisors about this particular problem. "Excuse me, but I need a female to embrace me so that I can see whether or not this charm will prevent me from turning into a rat."

No, that wouldn't go over too well.

Yuki had never been too clear about what charms had been put on the beads, anyway; he didn't know where to start. THe person he really needed to talk to was Kyo. But he hadn't seen Kyo since his confinement. No one had, except Akito. Yuki wondered if Kyo had gone mad yet.

Maybe it was time to stop being a coward, he thought. Maybe it was time to make up for the past failure of courage. And maybe he could even find Tohru...

And say _what_?

He sighed and buried his face in his hands.

The person to ask was Haru, he decided at some length. And, now that he was making crazy plans...

Manabe-san.

"An outsider?" Haru queried dubiously when Yuki next visited the Souma Complex. The two of them sat by the lake, Haru thunking stones into the water (he called this 'skipping' them, though he and Yuki had severely different points of view as to what consisted of skipping). Yuki still had the Mathias Church book, which he had checked out from the library. He didn't really think too much of the poetry. But it was good to pretend to be concentrating on, as he was doing now.

"Well, he _is_ majoring in religion and theology at the same university as me," Yuki explained. "Who better to analyze the charms on the beads once we get ahold of them?"

"...How do you know so much about him?" Haru poked Yuki teasingly.

Yuki sweatdropped. "He _e-mails_ me," he muttered. "Constantly. About every incident in his life. I think he still considers himself as my subordinate, and therefore has to keep me updated...or something like that. I didn't really understand it when he explained it to me." Yuki coughed. "Shouldn't you be asking me how exactly we're going to get the beads from that cat?"

"Yeah. That," said Haru lazily.

"He's kept somewhere near the center of the complex," Yuki said hesitantly. "I think. And of course Akito is the only one who ever sees him...but even Akito can't be on guard every second of the day. It might simply be a matter of observation...we can find out when Kyo is left alone, and we can get in there ourselves."

"You think no one's tried that, yet?"

Yuki looked at Haru with some surprise. He saw that the Ox was teasing him, and relaxed a little. Haru hadn't changed at all.

"Who on earth would want to find _Kyo_? Besides us, I mean."

"Besides us and god...no one would dare." Haru smirked. "You know I'd drive through hell in an ice-cream truck for you, Yuki."

Yuki smiled.

Manabe-san was fairly easy to locate. Yuki suspected that the boy had been waiting for him to give in and visit him at the dorms. Having never lived on campus (this university had been chosen specifically for its proximity to the Souma grounds), Yuki would have become lost had not Manabe-kun been _waiting_ by the staircase on the ground floor.

"Ah, Yuki-chan!" Manabe rushed forward and clapped Yuki on the shoulder zealously. He had grown so much...taller, Yuki noticed weakly. It was like meeting with a very large, very sly dog (who was nonetheless very happy to see you). "Still Pink, I see."

Yuki growled low in his throat. He took this to mean that he had not entirely lost his slightly (okay, _rather_) feminine build. Manabe was definitely still Black. He was even dressed all in it. It reminded Yuki sharply of Tohru's friend Hanajime-san.

"Let me take you out to dinner." When Yuki eyed him doubtfully, Manabe simply grinned. "For old time's sake. It's not _everyday_ that the (former) President and Vice President join forces to battle the evils of a college campus, now is it?"

"...Manabe-san, what are you _talking_ about?" Yuki shook his head. Here was another person who had not changed at all.

"I'm talking about oppression! Injustice! And Hunger! Mostly Hunger!" With every word, Manabe-san stabbed a forefinger in the air. They were beginning to attract strange looks. Yuki hastilly accepted Manabe's invitation to dinner.

He regretted it even before they stepped foot in Manabe's favorite "restaurant", which happened to be Wacdonald's. Manabe took a random customer for a maitre d', asking for a seat in the nonsmoking section and saying that he didn't want his coat folded (he was making to hand it to the man, but Yuki put his martial arts skills to the test by grabbing it in midair). At the counter, Manabe gave the cashier a ridiculously detailed order. Yuki felt so guilty that he only ordered a salad and a bottled water.

"Trying to lose those hips, Yuki-chan?" Manabe questioned loudly.

Yuki would have killed him had there not been so many witnesses.

"Listen, Manabe-san," Yuki said forcefully, trying to appear fierce over his salad.

"Ah ah ah!" Manabe scolded. "Call me Kakeru-kun."

"When pig's fly," Yuki assured him. "I came to ask for your help, not your eccentricities."

"You're absolutely no fun at all, Yuki-chan." Manabe laughed. "But what could this humble servant do for the Prince?"

So Yuki, despite his annoyance, laid it out for him.

Nightfall usually found Yuki kneeling by the door leading the Akito's quarters, his thoughts miles away. He liked to rewind his day, remember the lectures he'd listened to, tests he needed to study for, papers he had to write, people he had to see. People he _wanted_ to see. Homework that he wouldn't get to until late.

Kureno, blank-faced, was the one who usually let him in. It was no different tonight. Yuki bowed slightly and entered, barely sparing a glance for the beautiful room and the last rays of sunlight filtering in. He focused completely on Akito, on concealing his true emotions, on appearing to enjoy these visits. The last never worked, but it helped distract Akito from what Yuki really didn't want him to see.

"Akito-san," Yuki said softly. "A pleasure, as always." He almost choked on this, thinking, 'Where are you keeping him? What have you _done_ with him?'

"Weak sentiments, Yuki-kun, for one in the presence of his master," Akito observed absently.

Yuki grimaced. He couldn't quite manage blind devotion. He was working on it.

"Forgive me," Yuki said. "I've been...ill lately."

"Again?" Akito seemed bemused. "Such a frail little rat..." Yuki just managed not to flinch when Akito's fingertips brushed across his face, tracing his cheekbones to his hair. "Is the university becoming too much for you?"

"Any place without your presence is too much," Yuki lied.

"I _know_." Akito smiled, gratified, though Yuki could tell that he didn't buy it.

He wasn't entirely sure that Akito hadn't picked up on what was going on between Yuki and Haru--the plans had been laid out discreetly but perhaps not discreetly enough. It seemed to Yuki that Akito had eyes and ears everywhere.

But he _dreamed_ of it. Every night. In shades of brown, like muddy water. He was in the room where Kyo was kept, and there were no windows. Akito would not have allowed sky-loving Kyo the luxury of the outside world, even a part of it uninhabited by anything other than trees. The floor was always raw, unsanded wood, for some reason, and in his dream he could imagine that Kyo would have tried to keep himself in shape and his martial arts forms sharp; he would have suffered innumerable splinters to accomplish this, until his feet were too ragged to hold him. And he would have let them scab over, and then he would have tried again. And again. Giving up was not something Kyo was used to, and the pain would have grounded him into the present, given him something to measure himself up against.

In the dream, Kyo was concealed by black curtains, and the closer Yuki got to them, the further away they seemed. He was barefoot; he could hear Kyo telling him to be careful of the splinters, calling him an idiot for even trying...

He woke up in a cold sweat.

The sun had not risen yet. Yuki sighed and pulled himself out from under the damp covers. He did not think he would be able to get back to sleep.

And today was the day.


	3. the storm breaks

**iii. the storm breaks**

Kisa waited in silence underneath the sakura tree, her arms crossed demurely before her. She was thinking of the fact that this morning Momiji-kun had been singing the happy monkey song (which had made Ritsu-san go into a near apoplectic fit--he had assumed that the song was some sort of veiled threat, brought on by something he himself had done). But Kisa knew that the song was not for Ritsu-san.

She even sort of thought she knew to whom Momiji-kun was singing this song, and every other song.

Her head shot up when she heard someone come out into the garden; when she saw that it was not dark-haired Hiro-kun, but rather white-haired Hatsuharu-san, her heart dropped.

"Oi," Hatsuharu greeted her as he passed.

"Good morning," she returned half-heartedly.

Hatsuharu paused. He ruffled her hair good-naturedly. "Hiro-kun is being lectured," he said, soto voice.

"...The ice-cream?"

"As a matter of fact, yes." Hatsuharu looked at her shrewdly. "Kisa-chan wouldn't happen to have had anything to do with that, would she?"

"N-n-no." Kisa blushed. She knew it had been Momiji-kun who had eaten two cartons of chocolate ice-cream. He was going to get very, very fat if he went on as he was. But Hiro had been trying to dispose of the empty cartons this morning before anyone else woke up. He had instructed Kisa to wait for him in the garden.

"Well, then," Hatsuharu said carelessly, "I suspect a certain blond villian, who has been known to eat enormous quantities of sweets in the past."

"...In that case, Hatsuharu-san, you would be correct," said Kisa carefully.

Hatsuharu shrugged and went on his way. Kisa watched him go, unable to conceal a smile. She adored her cousin, and his strange ways. He disappeared from sight. She could hear American music blasting in a heavy bass, and then there he was again, leaning out the driver's side window of Freak Show, the car that Hatsuharu had bought upon turning sixteen years of age (with Souma funds, of course, though he had put all the money he had earned since then back into the accounts). It was a vivid purple, and everytime Kisa rode in it, she could feel her heart pounding in time with the impossibly loud music. Hatsuharu shouted over it now, "I won't be back for a while; be good."

"Y-yeah!" She waved as he raced from the grounds, passing through the gate and the guards there with no difficulty.

Five minutes later, Hiro sauntered out into the garden, looking sullen.

"Come on, we have to look for Haru," he informed Kisa, grabbing her arm.

"Hatsuharu-san?" She let him pull her along. "But he just left!"

"What!" Hiro turned to look at her. "You _saw_ him?"

Kisa stared. It was very rarely that Hiro expressed so much worry for anything. "Is something the matter, Hiro-kun?"

"Damn, you're clueless," he muttered. "Didn't you know? Yuki and Kyo disappeared this morning. Akito thinks Haru had something to do with it. He's ordered us to search for them all over the compound; he has people in the city searching, too."

"Kyo-san? Kyo-san is...is no longer in confinement?"

Hiro paled. He took her by her shoulders, pulling her in close until she could feel his lips against her ear. "Don't say it, Kisa. I am, too, but gods, don't _say_ it. He'd _know_." He pulled back to look her in the eye. She could feel his hands trembling a little. "I don't want him to think you, too, might have been involved."

"Okay," she said. She smiled gently, grateful to have a friend like Hiro-kun, who always knew what she was thinking, and who always understood.

Kisa sat down to dinner with a rather large bruise upon her left cheek. Hiro caught her eye, and she gave him a reassuring smile. Akito-san had been very easy on her.

He had been in a terrible rage all afternoon. There had been no word from Haru or Yuki; no one knew where they were. Kisa had been forced to explain that she had seen Haru leave, but she had assured Akito that he had left no word as to where he was going or what he had done. He had still hit her for it. But she was glad to be able to sit here at the table, with Hiro-kun, Ritsu-san and Kagura-san. Rin-san was in her room, unwilling to come out for anyone. The adults were all consulting with Akito-san, trying to decide what to do next.

And Momiji-kun was still missing in action.

She had the vaguest of ideas where he was, and she knew it wouldn't be good for him if anyone were to find out. She had told Akito-san that she thought he was out with friends from school; she hoped he hadn't seen through the lie.

"You've been seeing Onee-san, haven't you?" Kisa asked Momiji-kun when she cornered him in the kitchen late that night.

He had been digging through the ice box, for all intents and purposes looking for more ice-cream, but when she said this, he gave a violent start and slammed the door shut. His eyes were huge, the pupils tiny. He rounded on her like a wild animal.

"Shut up! Don't ever say that!" Quickly he made a circuit of the room, and she realized that he was looking for eavesdroppers. When he was satisfied that there were none, he relaxed slightly.

He ran a shaking hand through his blond hair. Kisa was struck suddenly with how old he was; seventeen, almost a man now. This wasn't the carefree rabbit of two years ago.

"I apologize, Kisa-chan," he said, more composedly. "O-of course I'm not seeing...that person. It's forbidden, you know that."

"A thing being forbidden never stopped you before," she pointed out.

"That person is _beyond_ forbidden. Kisa, don't let's ever mention this again. It's not something to speak of lightly." Momiji-kun touched her cheek, where the bruise was turning a rather sickly shade of brown. Then he went back to rumaging around in the refrigerator.

On tiptoes Kisa left the kitchen. Momiji-kun's denial was the strongest affirmation she could have asked for.

'Onee-san...'

She sighed and retreated into her bedroom, lost in memory.

Early that morning, before the other juunishi sleeping on the same hall as she awakened, Kisa crept into Yuki-san's bedroom. It was very near Akito-san's quarters, so she took care to be especially silent; the tiger was a master at sneaking up on prey unnoticed, and Kisa fully utilized this talent.

Yuki-san's room was very bare. He had never bothered to decorate it as he had his room at Shigure-san's old house in the country. Kisa got the feeling that Yuki had always considered this a temporary home. The only personalized touches were a potted plant, set lovingly in the only window where it could soak up the sun, and a book open on the futon that had never been folded up. Kisa lifted the book carefully, and read the page it was opened to.

_there is a steel-colored cloud on the horizon_

_and i am not menaced, i am still--_

_for all that the seabirds are dancing, i will_

_remain as i am, unmoved,_

_removed from the violence of not knowing._

_for ages men have lived and died_

_and thought many resisted, all were tied_

_to the same fate in the end, the one i shall meet,_

_greet as a brother. oh i am not afraid _

_of furious clouds or flashing lights--_

_i cannot run, and the only war i fight_

_is this one within myself that i am losing,_

_choosing to press on, though it is true_

_i never was a match for you._

The spine announced the book as a collection of poems by an Englishman named Mathias Church. Kisa decided to keep the book. Yuki-san wouldn't be needing it, wherever he was, and she needed to brush up on her English, anyway.


	4. sunbeams break through clouds

**notes: The song quoted below just knocked me upside the head like a roll of pennies in a sock, screaming "YUKIANDKYO!" in the premise of this story. So I included it.**

Now you think you're so damn fine,  
You can rule the world--no, not mine,  
I don't think so.  
No, the scene that you're in,  
And the people that you've been with  
Just get to me.  
But you think I'm not as cool  
As you are, so beautiful,  
Well, who're you fooling?  
Well, I'm here to tell you babe,  
The game you're in is just a game.  
So damn pretentious...  
God my fingers burn,  
Now when I think of touching your hair.  
You have changed so much that I don't know  
If I can call you and tell you I care.  
And I would love to bring you down,  
Plant your feet back on the ground.  
You think you're so beautiful  
(So beautiful)

--Pete Murray

**vi. sunbeams break through clouds**

Light. It hurt so good that he only hissed in pain and didn't scream, didn't do anything to give away the fact that he was not alone, that he was finally, finally...

Finally in the _light_ again.

He didn't know that he was crying until calloused thumbs swept water away from the hollows beneath his eyes. He leant into the touch, obsessing with it for a few eternities--the strength of it, the surety, the way that it wasn't Akito at all--and then he was being pulled up and out of his coccoon of sheets, up into the light. He blinked ferociously against the pain, the torrential headache building behind his eyes, the pins and needles of limbs too long out of use. He had not needed his legs, his arms, his eyes for so long. He didn't entirely know what to do with them now.

"Walk, damn you," the person supporting him growled.

And this was so familiar that it took his breath. He knew this. He _knew_ it.

"Y-you." A hot wave of shame broke over him. To think that the first person he'd seen in--how long had it been, anyway?--a very long time would be the one person he'd never wanted to see again.

He let go a violent string of curses (which he had chanted in his mind for years, like a song of hatred against Akito, though he had never dared speak them until now) and pushed away the boy who had ruined his life.

"What the hell are you _doing_ here, damned rat? Did he send you? Are you here to mock me?" With every question, the thick knot of hatred within him grew; he felt like killing Sohma Yuki, who was staring down at him with such cool disdain. "You don't deserve her, rat. Barging in here after all this time to gloat--does she know where you are? Does she even remember me?" His voice cracked at this, to his embarrassment. For one dizzying moment, he could think of nothing but Tohru--the gentle glow of her brown eyes, the sharp whip of her hair in the spring breeze, the coolness of her hand upon his. The way she made everything worthwhile. And of course she was somewhere in this complex, playing wife to this...this bastard!

"You idiot!" the rat hissed, yanking him back out of his bed. Kyo fell helplessly against the other boy, unable to support his own weight. His weakness was killing the last vestige of his pride. "You'll have time to jump down my throat later. We're leaving."

Kyo glared. "Leaving? How in God's name do you propose--" He paused. "But Akito--"

"Is going to kill us both if you don't shut up," the rat assured him, before heaving both of them out of the oppressive, windowless room and into the shaded hallway. Kyo could barely keep his eyes open; he wondered, vexed, if the unfiltered light of the sun would blind him permanently. As if catching on to the train of his thoughts, the rat produced a long handkerchief and wrapped it haphazardly around Kyo's temples, saying as he did so, "I think this is it." There was the sound of a catch being lifted (or possibly broken) and a screen slid out of the way. And then the wooden, papery smell of the compound gave way to a spring that Kyo had only been able to dream of before.

Kyo forced his eyes to remain open as he felt himself being hauled outside; the handkerchief blocked out the worst of the sunlight, but it still hurt. Even this minor pain was worth it. He could smell trees growing, wet dirt, newly cut grass. The air upon his face was fresh and strangely sweet. He inhaled, taking it all in. He could feel the rat chuckle low in his throat, and knew that he must have been wearing a huge, goofy smile. He didn't care.

They shuffled onward for a long time, over grass and onto gravel, and from there to what must have been asphalt. After what seemed like hours, the rat pulled the two of them into the cover of the forest, and Kyo was lain against what turned out to be an oak tree, once Kyo pulled the handkerchief from his still smarting eyes. He saw that the rat had collapsed next to him, breathing harshly; he had done most of the work, after all.

"What now, rat?"

The rat's expression was guarded. Kyo noticed, with some degree of wonder, that the rat had given up his elaborate, beautiful clothes in favor of plainer, more masculine attire; and he was taller. He still retained the grace and beauty (Kyo thought these words with a faint shudder of disgust) that had always marked him.

"We wait," the rat said tiredly.

"For _what_?"

When the rat didn't answer, Kyo relaxed against the tree, enjoying the rough feel of bark against his back. He didn't even mind the damp seeping through his trousers (which were the plain white Akito provided him with, like his shirt, very thin).

Covertly, he studied the rat's profile. The rat was...no longer seventeen. A little shocked, Kyo realized that neither was he. Of course, he had already known this, but he had never really understood it. He had been stuck in a moment--the moment the rat defeated him for the last time, and the doors slammed shut on his freedom. The rat's was a cold, almost expressionless face; Kyo thought he could guess what was on his enemy's mind.

"How long?" Kyo asked. He barely recognized his own voice; it was coarse and flat from disuse.

"More than two years," the rat replied distantly.

"Aa." Kyo frowned. Nineteen, then. "And Tohru--"

The rat's eyes flashed dangerously.

He heard the approach of the car before he actually saw it. The very leaves trembled with the force of the heavy bass beat; Kyo, who was accustomed to the maddening silence of his prison, winced and tried to act like he hadn't. He was afforded a glimpse of the vivid purple body and chrome rims as the driver of the car parked off the side of the little road. There was the sound of a door slamming shut, and then of someone pushing through the briars and wild tree limbs to the spot where the rat and Kyo were resting.

Kyo went very tense, but he didn't miss the almost-smile that played around the rat's lips. He thought that whomever it was, was expected.

He blinked when a very tall, very...shiny Sohma Hatsuharu appeared. The shinyness was due to the bountiful collection of chains and jewelry that the ox wore.

"Taxi fare is five thousand yen," Haru stated blandly.

Kyo sweatdropped.

The rat and Haru both helped Kyo up and out of the woods; by now, the sun was beginning to go down, and Kyo no longer felt like needles pricked his eyeballs everytime he exposed them. He gawked at the weird, purple car that the rat and the ox apparently intended to put him in.

"I've never been gladder to see this pile of junk," the rat muttered.

Haru grinned. "I was under the impression that Yuki-kun was very fond of having his sensitive ear drums busted out by the tender symphanies of this glorious machine. Why the change of heart?"

The rat grimaced.

"A mystery," Haru said in a stage-whisper.

Kyo could almost sympathize with the rat when, hours later, he found himself aching with cramps and nursing a thunderous headache brought on by the screaming of ACDC and various other rock groups. He seriously wanted to kill somebody. Preferably with a very big, very heavy bass guitar.

Still, the rat wasn't as perturbed as he pretended to be. Years of careful observation had trained Kyo to the secret language the rat used instead of words. He hadn't had much else to think of when he'd been put away, and he found that he hadn't forgotten any of it. The subtle relaxation of taut shoulders. The almost not there smile. The even brow. The way his hair fell forward and got in his eyes, and the gentle sweep of long fingers pushing the light strands aside. Of course, Kyo loathed everything about the rat, and this silent language was no exception, but he couldn't help but be somewhat relieved...he had almost been afraid that he wouldn't know how to deal with the rat. That the rat might have gone on without him.

"I see Kyo-kun is entertaining dirty thoughts about Yuki-kun," Haru bellowed over the blare of Gorgon Zero.

Heat flared all up and down Kyo's body. "What the hell!" He glared at the rat, who was smirking, the bastard. "Damn rat!"

"What did _I _do?"

"Y-you--"

"How cute--he stutters and everything."

The music abruptly cut off and Haru's last word came out much too loud. He unconcernedly fiddled with the CD player, ignoring Kyo's sincere cursing.

Kyo awoke when the car stopped moving.

"Morning, princess," Haru crooned mockingly. He unceremoniously opened the door Kyo had been curled against, and the drowsy cat tumbled out.

He saw sleepily that they were far from the Sohma Estate, and far from the city, too. This was a very old, very traditional inn. He was distinctly embarassed, realizing that he'd have to go in there in his skimpy white robes.

"Put something on." The haughty voice of the rat came from behind him, and before Kyo could retort, he felt something heavy settle around his shoulders. It was a long overcoat. Sullenly he buttoned it up to his chin.

"Is your friend here?" Haru sounded bemused, and Kyo didn't blame him. Friend? The rat?

"Should be," replied the rat. "In fact--" He trailed off.

Kyo caught a glimpse of someone coming through the screen entrance, and then, shocked, he watched as a very large, black-haired man skipped up to the rat and embraced him heartily.

"Eeeeh!"

"M-M-Manabe-san!" The rat yelped, mortified.

Kyo tried to pry his jaw off of the ground.

"Ah, Yuki-chan! So good to see you again after so long!"

"A day is long?"

"A day is an eternity!"

"...Please get off of me."

Haru asked, straight-faced, if Yuki-kun was going to introduce his fiance.

The rat coughed pointedly. The black-haired man backed away, grinning wildly. "Manabe-san, my cousins, Sohma Hatsuharu and Sohma Kyo."

"Yuki-chan's cousins! I remember you from school."

Kyo couldn't believe that he had never noticed this boy. He would have stuck out like a pink sheep.

The rat's expression was suddenly wary. "We need to be quick, Manabe-san. I don't know how much time we'll have."

"I brought all of my books and notes," the other boy assured the rat. "We've got a room near the back--come on, follow me..."

Kyo found, to his surprise, that he felt much better after his rest, and he walked on his own, determinedly not leaning on Haru, who stood very close to him. "I'm _fine_," Kyo said in a low tone after a while.

Haru smiled.

The room was near a natural spring. Th_e _floor was spread with tatami mats and there was a small group of futons already laid out in the far corner. Kyo sat down carefully at the low table, stretching his legs out under the cloths and sighing from the heat there. The rat knelt opposite from him, frowning to find that his knees bumped against Kyo's toes. Stubbornly, Kyo refused to move.

"Go get your notes," the rat ordered Manabe. Haru folded himself elegantly next to the rat, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Give me your hand."

Kyo blinked.

The rat grimaced and grabbed Kyo's wrist, his hands strangely warm. Kyo had half expected them to be like ice. Disgusted, Kyo tried to jerk away but the rat had an iron grip. One hand held on to Kyo and the other gently prodded the Juzu beads encircling Kyo's wrist.

"Damn it, let me go, rat--!"

"Stop." The word was so firm that Kyo couldn't think of anything to say for a moment. The rat's attention was more focused than he had ever seen it.

"Yuki-kun has a plan," Haru said softly. Kyo looked up questioningly. "He thinks he can break the curse."

Kyo snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. No one can break the curse. Even Tohru--"

"Honda-san," interrupted the rat sharply, "never had the chance to get very far."

"Wh-what?"

Abruptly, the rat rose to his feet and went across the room to where Manabe was shuffling through a relative mountain of papers. Kyo felt his heart stutter. "What does he mean? I thought Tohru--"

"After Akito put you away, he gave Honda-san over to Hatori-nii-san." Haru rested one cheek upon his open palm. His eyes never left the rat. "We haven't heard from her in years. I think she works in an electronics factory--I'm not sure, though. No one ever speaks of her." Haru glanced at Kyo's stricken face. "What, did you think _he_ got to keep her?"

Yes.

Kyo groaned and buried his head in his arms. "How the hell was I supposed to know? He never said anything, the idiot."

Not that he felt bad about it. Anything that got through to that rat was, in Kyo's mind, a good thing.


End file.
